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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23112985">Radio Silence</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenSarcasm/pseuds/FallenSarcasm'>FallenSarcasm</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Beast Wars</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Other, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Hatred, Self-blaming, Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 05:07:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,555</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23112985</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenSarcasm/pseuds/FallenSarcasm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rattrap has lost a lot. But those he trusted the most? Losing them hurt the most, and there is no way he knew how to cushion the blow. Radio silence is deafening.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Botanica/Rattrap, Dinobot &amp; Rattrap, Rattrap &amp; Rhinox</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Radio Silence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Little one shot character analysis that was written on the spot. Loosely inspired when listening to "Let me down slowly" by Alec Benjamen, "Lay my body down" by Rag'n'Bone Man and "Bother" by Stone Sour. But it kinda just evolved while writing.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            When they first started out together, they were inseparable. Two peas in a pod, talking often. Playful banter would fill the room, but there were still quieter moments. The two were busy, with Botanica being a scientist and his military career taking off. This made time together all be more precious, treasured even.</p><p>            Nights together were particularly special. Not because of fun activities in the berth, but just the moments of being entangled in each other’s arm, having silent conversations about the future.</p><p>            “I wish we could lie here forever.”</p><p>            “Me too, babe.”</p><p>            “Maybe we could…if you left the military, we could be together more…”</p><p>            “I know, Sprouts. But wit’ a possible war comin’ I can’t jus’ leave…I have a responsibility, y’know?”</p><p>            “I know you do…”</p><p>            And even when he was away, serving, the conversations never stopped. But maybe he should have listened to them.</p><p>            Over time, the conversations dwindled, though. Rattrap fought the Predacons—those monsters! —time and time again. He worked security, but not in the way most would think. Rattrap was <em>security </em>in the sense he strengthened the Maximal’s but destabilized the Predacon’s. He went behind enemy lines, opened lines of communication between himself and the comrades he would come to betray.</p><p>            And all too often that betrayal would end in radio silence, either from him or <em>them. </em> </p><p>With that, Rattrap’s military career had never been an easy one. He traveled a lot, had to do a great number of questionable things. Things Botanica would never agree with, being the pacifist she was. Things he himself never agreed with if he was honest. However, he tried to make things work. He always tried.</p><p>            Botanica slowly grew more distant. He woke up alone frequently to her gone, assuming he slept at all. They hardly spoke, even when together. They spoke even less when he was away. He would reach out to her, physically and metaphorically, and she would shrivel up, pull away like a shrinking violet. Rattrap bottled up the pain. He smiled, pretended it didn’t hurt. But he could feel everything turning grey, like static, and cold.</p><p>            “Hey, isn’ this the new romance movie ya want to see?”</p><p>            “You don’t like romance.”</p><p>            “I never said that. ‘Sides, ya wanna go see it sometime?”</p><p>            “No, I don’t.”</p><p>            “Alright…is there anythin’ ya wanna do?”</p><p>            “No.”   </p><p>            He hoped she would come around, tell him what was wrong, reopen the lines of communication. However, he found himself alone in radio silence more and more. He’d had given up asking what was wrong, but Rattrap made nice gestures when he could, when he felt he had the time to. Reports were long and tedious things, but they needed to be done. But fortunately, he found himself lucky today.</p><p>            Rattrap, though, was concerned. Each night, or early morning, when Botanica thought him asleep, she would leave. Her steps would echo ever so slightly, ringing in his audio. He was left alone and cold. He never dared ask where she was going. He felt he already knew the answer. Rattrap just didn’t want the truth to be confirmed.</p><p>            Conversations are short now, with little to no radio chatter.  </p><p>            He had prepared a nice evening, wanting to just <em>talk </em>with Botanica about anything. After some thinking, he thought maybe a very grandiose gesture would show that he still cared about their relationship enough to give a nanobite.</p><p>            But Rattrap was too curious for his own good. His specialty was getting other people’s secrets…especially when they didn’t want them to be known. Rattrap wished he had kept his curiosity at bay. Ignorance was bliss.</p><p>             He knew about that other guy. How stupid of him. How utterly stupid of him. But maybe, just maybe, he could win her back.</p><p>            He’d be lonely without her. He was lonely without her. He needed her.</p><p>            But Botanica never showed, and Rattrap’s time and effort was wasted. She didn’t come home that night, no call, no excuse. She had walked in well past the time she usually got home, and Rattrap had decided to turn to a bit of high grade to cope.</p><p>            Radio silence filled the night.  </p><p>            Rattrap finally stopped caring or, more accurately, convinced himself he did. He went to work, never spoke to Botanica. The two never talked anymore, despite living together. He remained home, drinking his high grade to dull the pain. Bottle it up, but the pressure kept building.</p><p>            He would find himself in the berth alone, tossing and turning as if physically fighting the nightmares that plagued him.</p><p>            “Where have ya been, Sprouts?” He arched the ridge of his optic, his gaze boring into her. He suddenly dawned on him he didn’t know her anymore. Just who was this bot standing in front of him? The bot he gave his spark to? The one he confided in, trusted with his life? Where was she?</p><p>            “I was out with some friends.”</p><p>This was the first time in a while in their relationship, though, the radio silence was not forever. At least, it wasn’t for forever <em>yet. </em> </p><p>            “…Friends or <em>friend?” </em></p><p>            “What are you—”</p><p>            “Botanica, cut the slag. I know. Just tell me the truth.”</p><p>            “I don’t love you anymore.”</p><p>            So this is how it felt to be betrayed. It hurt.</p><p>            “Then leave.”</p><p>            There was only radio silence.</p>
<hr/><p>            “My report, sir.”</p><p>            Rattrap handed the datapad over to his superior. He stood tall as the other gave it a glance over. His commander gave him a look of disappointment.</p><p>           “This report was due yesterday.”</p><p>           “So?”</p><p>           “So why is it <em>late, </em>Rattrap?”</p><p>           “It’s a basic weapons inventory report. It’s not <em>that </em>important, sir.”  </p><p>           “When there is a specific time that I need a report done, I expect it done by then. Are we understood?”</p><p>           “Yes, sir.”</p><p>           Rattrap left, saying no more. He was tired, he was angry, and he wanted a fragging drink. He quietly pulled out his secret stash in his compartment at his station and took a swing before swiftly putting it back. Just a few sips to take off the edge.</p><p>           He knew he didn’t get more of a verbal lashing because he was the best guy there. Rattrap made sure he was the best, even though everyone hated him. That was fine. He didn’t need them, just like he didn’t need anyone else. He had Rhinox, his best friend still.</p><p>         Rhinox, the bot giving him a good stare down when he saw that container.</p><p>         “You are <em>drinking </em>on the job?” he hissed.</p><p>         “It’s fine. It’s not like I’m plastered or anythin’. Relax.”</p><p>         “Rattrap…I think you really need to cut back on…”</p><p>          “Cut back on the <em>what, </em>Rhinox? My drinkin’ habits are fine!”</p><p>           Rhinox looked at him with worry as Rattrap crossed his arms. He could feel himself shaking just a moment ago, feeling as if there is a lurking danger near. The bronze bot couldn’t place exactly why though.</p><p>           His optics cut to the side when he caught a movement, only to relax when he saw that it was just the commander. He took a deep intake.</p><p>           “Rattrap...are you okay?”</p><p>           “I told ya, I’m fine!”</p><p>           Fine, he told himself. He was fine. However, those few sips turned into a few canisters some time ago and Rattrap found himself being put on leave until he could solve the problem. Instead, he quietly resigned to the reserves. Then, he would only have to go on those stupid exploration missions.</p><p>           He also had his paycheck. Credits in his account every lunar cycle to buy more high grade with at the bar in the underbellies of Cybertron. There were plenty of femmes and parties to keep him up all night, wear him out, and he was never alone. Every night he could wake up to a femme in his arms or have the buzz of high grade to block out radio silence.</p><p>           Radio silence was never good. Usually meant somebody died or left in his experience.</p><p>           “Rattrap…you can’t keep living like this,” Rhinox had eventually lectured him, after not speaking with him for lunar cycles. His big green friend looked helpless—it didn’t suit him—as he pleaded with Rattrap to get help. Rattrap, for his part, just stared as he waved another round of high grade around, clearly too drunk to give a slag. “I can’t keep watching you kill yourself!”</p><p>           “’m fine…” he slurred, “jus’ livin’ t’ dream…”</p><p>           Getting called to the Axalon mission ruined that dream life very quickly.</p><p>           Rattrap pretended to be sober, more to not loose his money to buy more high grade. It didn’t stop him from sneaking high grade onto the site and drinking in between shifts to prepare for the trip.</p><p>           Stupid High Council and their lousy experiments. But as soon as Protoform X was dropped into the pit of space, it wasn’t going to be Rattrap’s problem anymore.</p><p>           He had his own issues to deal with, like getting enough high grade to pass out for the night. Too bad his tab was too high and he had no cash to run to a store…if only he could drink himself to stasis lock.</p><p>            It was probably a good thing. He did have to pass that substance test thing, and it did pick up on high grade consumption in the past solar cycle….</p><p>            What he didn’t expect was the tremors to overcome his body in a matter of hours. He felt sick, overcome with anxiety and paranoia. He found himself sitting in the corner of his inhabitance, curled into himself, knees to his chest plate. His spark wouldn’t stop pounding. He could hear it echoing in his audios. He felt sick and dizzy, and eventually…darkness.</p><p>            Rattrap woke up groggy, unsure of how he got onto the floor but picked himself up. His processor ached far worse than any hangover he could remember. His steps were unsteady, his servos still trembled. It was too quiet without the buzz of high grade in his systems. He took several intakes before slowly making his way to door to go to the bar.</p><p>            He needed a drink.</p>
<hr/><p>            Rattrap found himself unable to believe his situation. Here he was, working with a slagging Pred who would sooner kill him than be his trusted comrade on some backwater planet, and only Primus knows where or even <em>when </em>this planet is! All because Megatron just <em>had </em>to steal some dumb golden disk that matters why?</p><p>            Wonderful. Simply wonderful.</p><p>            At least it wasn’t radio silent, though. Him and Dinobot tended to make noise when together. Rattrap even made it a point to annoy the raptor whenever he was in earshot with full hostile. He couldn’t trust Dinobot and he must make it clear that he is not like the others—he wasn’t fooled by this act of his.</p><p>            He never would be fooled, only he was.</p><p>            He was so very, very foolish to believe he could trust Dinobot. Somehow the two became inseparable, despite their vitriolic start. However, those vitriolic insults and barbs turned into a sort of game the two played to keep each other sane.</p><p>            Rattrap had begun to wonder of Dinobot hated radio silence too.</p><p>            As much as the raptor told him to shut up, he sometimes was the instigator of their verbal brawls. None of the jabs were meant to hurt, and they didn’t. They became a way to pass the time, blow off steam and sometimes…the two would learn surprising things about each other. They learned when not to engage with each other, or more accurately, Dinobot knew when not to engage <em>him. </em></p><p>            He would always remember this one day.</p><p>           The day where, perhaps, they became <em>friends. </em>Rattrap had been watching the monitor, typing a few buttons when suddenly he saw mech fluid covering his servos.</p><p>           He looked up in horror, looking at the Predacon in front of him, on the floor. He was beaten, bleeding. He remembered this. The gun extended, pointed to this <em>kid. </em>Primus, this was a kid! Rattrap was there. Why was he there? Why was he doing this?</p><p>          No, he can’t be there. This happened a long time ago.</p><p>          But it didn’t stop the sudden <em>bang </em>before radio silence rang in his audios<em>. </em></p><p>          Rattrap gasped and flinched back. He took a shaky intake before looking at his servo, finding them free of the purple liquid. He looked around, his features panicked, only to find Dinobot, staring at him with a softer expression than normal.</p><p>
  <em>         Slag. </em>
</p><p>         “Here t’ take over, Choppa’face?” He forced himself to appear bored, but his facial plates were still lined with anxiety.</p><p>          “Yes, I’m here to relieve you of your duties.” His raspy voice was quieter than usual.</p><p>          “Cool, I can finally go t’ sleep,” Rattrap stretched his arms up, in a way to appear nonchalant.  The ruse was a poor one, since he got up far to eagerly to leave.</p><p>          “…Rattrap?”</p><p>           He couldn’t help but look at Dinobot in surprise. In the short time they have known each other, Dinobot never once referred to him by name.</p><p>          “Are you alright?”</p><p>          “I…” Rattrap was taken aback by the honest concern in the question. He had never known Predacons to show care or compassion for others outright due to their militaristic lifestyles.</p><p>         “I’m fine.”</p><p>         “No, you aren’t.”</p><p>         Rattrap bristled a little, but since Dinobot seemed to try to not seem antagonizing but genuine, he forced himself to calm down. He was also too tired to fight and deny this time around.</p><p>         “I’ve been better,” he relented, “But I’ll be fine.”</p><p>         “Are you certain?”</p><p>         “Yeah, I’ll be okay,” he nodded before pausing for a moment. “Thanks, Dinobot.”</p><p>         “My pleasure. Now go get some rest. I’ll take over here.”</p><p>         “Goodnight, don’t get too bored,” Rattrap gave a smile before leaving the room, Dinobot giving a small noise of acknowledgement in response.</p><p>          Rattrap never should have showed weakness. He never should have let his guard down. Rattrap should have known better. He should have known.</p><p>          Should have known.</p><p>          Dinobot’s betrayal hurt him more deeply than he will ever admit. He had finally stopped questioning where the raptor stood and then he had to destroy that trust. That familiar sting of betrayal. Abandonment. Anger.</p><p>          “Sure, he’s a slag-spoutin’ saurian, but at least y’know where he stands!”</p><p>          He thought he had him pegged. And the hardest part, the hardest most painful part, is before the radio silence broke through, Rattrap did in fact have Dinobot pegged.</p><p>          “It’s nice to know where you stand.”</p><p>          He should have never doubted him. He should have never yelled at him. Rattrap was the cause of his own radio silence here. He killed Dinobot with his own words.</p><p>          It was best for him to be silent, perhaps.</p><p>         Without Dinobot around to bicker with, the Axalon became quiet. So quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Rattrap hardly said a word, even to Rhinox. Rhinox was the only other person he was truly close to besides Dinobot.</p><p>         But Rattrap would say nothing if he didn’t have to. He might kill him too. His words might kill someone else, anyone else on the crew. Just like he killed his relationship with Botanica. Just like that kid. Just like Dinobot. He would be quiet from now on, only speaking when needed. Give a few smartass comments here and there to advert suspicion. </p><p>         Rattrap would remain radio silent.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Someone give this rat a hug and some therapy please. But I may do a small series where I do a oneshot for all the characters. We will see. Also, this is probably the first fanfic I wrote in like...5 years so I am sorry if some parts are confusing.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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